the Grand Canyon

         Until recently, there was a gulf the size of the Grand Canyon between ____ and me. I didn’t like her. I saw all her flaws, and I wanted other people to see them, too. I watched her hurt people I love, and I wanted her to be hurt, too. I wanted her to get what she deserved. She felt like the enemy, so I liked having a gulf the size of the Grand Canyon between us.

         Then I read this: “Love your enemy ____. Be kind to ____. Do good to ____.” What?? She doesn’t deserve it. She deserves the Grand Canyon. No. I don’t wanna.

         But then I read this: “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not practice what I tell you to practice?” Gulp.

         So I decided to practice. Whenever ____ came to mind, I asked myself what I would want from her if the tables were turned. I would want her to pray for my health and work and protection and open eyes and open heart and a good night’s sleep, so I started to praying. I would want her to be kind when she talked about me, so I stopped making snippy, judgmental remarks about her. I would want her to do me good, so I started asking God for good ideas.

         This morning, when ____ came to mind, I was shocked: I felt free as a bird, which made sense when I read this: “[R]elease, and you will be released.”


(Jesus’ words from Luke 6:35, Luke 6:46, and Luke 6:37, respectively.)